


I believe in the religion of love

by smicc



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: M/M, Sappy immortals in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smicc/pseuds/smicc
Summary: Nile is slowly coming to grips with the losses and unknowns in her newly-immortal life, but she’s also beginning to realize that she hasn’t left behind everything familiar.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 2
Kudos: 116





	I believe in the religion of love

**Author's Note:**

> I may have missed the boat on The Old Guard in July, but I made up for it by watching it about 20 times in the first week I saw it. And I couldn’t sleep until I got this down on the page.  
> This was supposed to be a fun, Nile-continually-realizes-just-how-ancient-her-friends-are drabble, and somehow emotions decided to come waltzing in. Oh well…

Nile watched the words on the page blur before her eyes. She’d spent most of the afternoon trying to learn even rudimentary Russian and it wasn’t going well.

Andy seemed to favor the “throw you off the deep end” style of teaching, and had advised her – in Russian – to brush up on the language before they departed for Volgograd next week. Luckily the others took a more supportive stance. Nicky had offered a translation of Andy’s barked order and Joe had returned from his next supply run with a Russian for Beginners book.

But even that didn’t mean the chances of her becoming conversational in the language in seven days were any more realistic. She was a fast learner but she wasn’t _that_ fast.

She set the book down and looked over to her empty mug. Maybe a refill on her coffee would help her understand the different conjugations she needed to master before moving on to the next chapter. She didn’t think she would do very well in Volgograd with only the things she’d learned in the first chapter – how to introduce herself, a variety of animal names, and the days of the week.

Joe had pitched in a few Russian curse words, which were more likely to come up on the mission ahead of them at least.

Nicky had chuckled and reassured her that there was usually very little conversation on missions like this, but promised to tutor her in spite of that fact.

Maybe she should take him up on that.

But first, coffee, she decided as she grabbed the cup and headed into the kitchen.

Nicky was standing at the stove, carefully minding the stir-fry that looked to be dinner for the group this evening. He was smiling down at the pan, a slight blush blooming on his cheeks which seemed to only encourage his husband’s antics.

Joe was leaning back against the counter, face turned to Nicky, grinning as he recited something in Italian.

“That’s an old one,” said Nicky glancing over at him.

“Nothing wrong with the classics,” remarked Joe.

Nile took a moment to observe the men, not wanting to break the warm atmosphere of the room.

It was a sharp contrast to her time with Andy and Booker which had been cold, and full of fear and questions, as they rushed from a church turned into a killing ground to a dark cave and finally to a massacre at a pharmaceutical lab. The two of them were tense and unhappy the entire time, but readily sharing their wisdom and warnings, painting a woeful picture of the eons of misery to come.

But Nicky and Joe were quickly tearing that image apart. Their love was infectious, and their warmth infused the entirety of the safe house – which was in fact a house this time. Even in the first week after leaving London, when both had been angry and hurting over Booker’s betrayal, there had been laughter and happy moments.

She was still an outsider, but she knew it was only a matter of time before these men would share those moments with her as well. Like they were truly the family Andy claimed them to be.

They would never be able to replace her own, but if she closed her eyes she could picture her family in their place. Her mother at the stove cooking up her secret-recipe chili, her brother – still just a toddler – sitting in his highchair beside their mother, her father mixing up the batter for the accompanying cornbread as he chatted with her mother, praising her grace or beauty, reciting all the reasons he’d fallen for her, and throwing in an odd poem or two when the mood struck.

_“I believe in the religion of love,” recited her father, one of his favorites rolling off his tongue in a deep rumble as he leaned into her mother’s side._

“Whatever direction its caravans may take,” continued Joe, and Nile’s eyes snapped open, realizing belatedly the first line had been him as well. Her memory of her parents seamlessly blending into the scene before her as Joe unwittingly picked a poem she so strongly associated with her parents.

“… For love is my religion and my faith,” concluded Nile, causing Joe and Nicky to both look over at her in surprise.

The unexpected reminder of her father was tough accompanied by the new knowledge that her mother and brother were now as lost to her as he was.

But she wasn’t surprised that he and Joe had the same tastes in poetry. The two men were similar and would have gotten along famously.

“Nile?” asked Nicky, his brow furrowing in concern as he turned around fully to face her.

“It’s nothing,” she said, fighting back the tears she could feel building just behind her eyes. “Just, that poem,” she waved a hand to vaguely encompass Joe’s words.

“How did you know it?” asked Joe.

“My f- father, it was one of his favorites,” said Nile. She took a breath to give her emotions a moment to settle before throwing in a joke to lighten the heavy mood that overtook the kitchen. "How’d you know it? Friends with the author?”

Nicky and Joe exchanged a glance, and private grin, before turning back to her.

“You could say that,” said Joe. “I wrote it.”

“What,” said Nile with a dumbfounded expression. But neither man disagreed, or called out that it was a joke.

But it couldn’t be true. No way could a poem Joe wrote God knows when have ended up as a fixture in her south Chicago home.

Her father had been so fond of reciting that poem that she’d memorized it by the time she was seven. To this day him reciting the poem as he tucked her into bed was one of her most treasured memories.

“ _It’s all about the power of love, sweetheart,” said her father, kissing her on the forehead as he folded the blanket edges in around her. “Love is all you need. And when you’re lost, just follow your heart it’ll lead you well.”_

That poem had been the cornerstone in her understanding of her parents’ deep love for each other. And now she was supposed to believe that the man in front of her, this deadly immortal, was the one who had penned the beautiful words that had impacted her life decades before she’d ever even thought about death?

“Your father has good taste,” said Joe, smiling at her. Nicky gave him one last soft smile before turning back to the stir-fry, dashing her last hope that they were pulling her leg.

It was true.

Her memory of this poem would now be irrevocably different, but she could at least take solace in the fact that her father had been right. There was no doubt the poem was about the power of love and following your heart, for the author was certainly fluent in the topic.

“Come habibi,” murmured Nicky. “You should start the salad.” Obviously distracting the man to give Nile a moment to reconcile her thoughts.

“As you wish my love,” said Joe, dropping a light kiss on Nicky’s check before he moved around his partner to access the fridge.

Maybe it was fate that she would be reminded of her father and his poetry now, maybe she needed to heed his advice and just follow her heart.

She was certain the men in front of her would be excellent teachers in that, as well as Russian.

**Author's Note:**

> The poem is actually penned by Ibn Arabi.


End file.
